Forgiven But Never Forgotten
by Emerald-Leaves
Summary: Russia reflects upon all that's happened between himself and Ukraine when she tells him she's leaving the Soviet Union. Human names used.


**Forgiven But Never Forgotten**

"Ivan?"

Russia looked up to see his older sister standing in the doorway of his office. Her face was streaked with tears and she was trembling slightly, but her features were set stubbornly, a grim expression adorning her normally sweet face. It was a look he had gotten use to over the years, a look which he despised, yet adored over the fear that usually rested over it. He would take anger over the fear.

"_Syestra_," he tried to muster up a smile on his lips. It wasn't as impossible as he would have thought it would be. The vodka probably helped with that. That and to make bearable the sudden terror that washed over him at the sight of the Ukrainian. "What is it that I can do for you?"

Cyan eyes filled with tears yet again, but none fell, and the ominous determination did not fade. "I think you know," she said quietly.

She was serious. There was no mistaking her this time. Something snapped inside of the big man at her gentle words, and he slumped forward, burying his face in his hands, sobbing. The vodka probably helped with that.

Bitterness washed over Russia as he cried. He couldn't have stopped even if he'd wanted to. It was too much. It was all simply too much. One by one, the empire he had suffered to create was falling in around him and he was helpless to stop it. One by one, they were all leaving him, leaving him alone. The thought made him cold inside, so very cold. He abhorrent the cold.

Yet he knew he had no one to blame but himself in this instance. What he had done in the past, all of the atrocities he'd committed were finally catching up to him. He'd never gotten a Nuremburg, but he certainly deserved one. He might have escaped the public humiliation, but this slow, steady personal crumbling of his life certainly made up for that. Perhaps it went even beyond.

A small hand was on his back, and he jumped at the sensation. No one touched him. No one had touched him in many years. They had all been so afraid of him, and for good reason. He had not been himself. He had not been sane. He had killed, tortured, punished…he had not been a kind nation. He had not been a good person. He had not deserved tenderness for what he had done, nor had he received any in return.

Looking up, he found himself staring at the familiar sight of tears streaming from Katyusha's large eyes. Only unlike in the past, there was pity, pity and sorrow. Ivan's heart twisted at the wretched expression, but he latched on to it. It giving him hope. She was feeling sorry for him, perhaps he still had a chance…

"Please," he whispered, grabbing her around the waist, burying his face into her chest, gleaning every bit of comfort from her he could. It had been so long since he had seen real concern from anyone, he was starved for the comfort. "Please, _Syestra_, don't leave me."

It was wonderful to feel his sister's arms wrap around him, sheltering him from the haunted memories, the tortured guilt that gnawed at his heart every single day. It felt wonderful to be able to _feel _again, to know that someone cared for him, even now at the end.

But oh the bitterness of this moment. The bitterness of begging, of dissolving into tears like a child. Despite yearning for this moment, this moment of perfect security, how he hated it all the same. This would be his last moment with his sister, he knew. There was nothing he could say or do to make her stay. She had every right to go. Yet Russia still hoped, hoped more than anything else in the world that she would.

"Y-you know I must," Ukraine whispered into his hair, kissing it. "After what has happened…"

"I'm sorry!" Russia cried, squeezing her closer to him. "I'm so sorry, _Syestra_! Please believe me! Please don't go!"

She didn't response right away. She didn't really have to. Even his own pleads sounded pathetic to his ears, so shallow after all he'd done. They were empty words, words that were drowned out, covered by the roaring waves of blood that had been spilt before and after the War. Blood that he had gladly spilled. Blood that had nearly destroyed his sister.

"I know that you are sorry, _Brat_," at last Katyusha spoke. "And…" she took a deep breath, "…and I forgive _you_, Ivan. But I cannot forget what happened…cannot _forget_ all that Russia did."

Lifting his face, Russia stared at his sister with haunted eyes. He knew what she meant, even if she didn't say it outright. She forgave Ivan, but not Russia. She knew Ivan was sorry, but wasn't sure if Russia was. But either way, she could not just forget what happened. She could not forget about the _Kulaks. _

Disentangling himself from his sister's loving grasp, Russia sat up straight, the acrimony returned to him so strongly he nearly gave in to his anger. The vodka probably helped with that.

"You will not stay for anything," he stated bluntly. "If that is the case, then get out."

He did not want her to go, and speaking to her like this hurt. But he had to. He knew he had to be harsh in this or he'd never survive this parting. He had to be severe, or he would lose himself again and never return.

Katyusha didn't say a word, unnerving the younger nation. She stood so very near him, not moving at all. She was so close, that comfort so very close, yet neither one moved. They were both too stubborn, both so set in their ways that it was impossible to meet in the middle. Too much blood between them.

"I'm taking Natalia with me," the quiet statement might as well have been screamed.

Ivan snapped his head up, staring at his sister, horrified. "What?"

The older woman's bottom lip quivered, but her eyes were hard. "I'm taking Natalia," she repeated more firmly. "She deserves to solidify herself. She deserves a chance at building herself up again, to be free truly for the first time."

"She will not leave me!"

"She will…She is."

The two siblings stared at one another for a long moment. It was a battle of wills, but for once, the amethyst eyes were the first to look away. The vodka probably helped with that.

"Very well," at last, Russia growled, hoping it mask the tears in his voice. "Get out. Leave. I don't want either of you."

Another pause. "I…we…didn't want it to be this way," Ukraine whispered.

"Then why do this?!" Ivan cried, once again feeling tears threaten to spill over, losing himself to despair. "Why leave me then? Stay! Both of you stay! Please!"

"You know why," Katyusha pressed, desperation entering into her own voice. "After all that's happened to us, can't you be happy to let us go?" she cried. "We lost _everything_! And it was all because of—"

She cut herself off. She looked too horrified to finish what had nearly been said in completion. But it didn't matter. Russia understood. He understood, and he knew she was right. He turned his face away in shame. It was funny, he thought he'd long ago forgotten how to feel it, but it was coming back to him, coming back to him so very strongly. The vodka probably helped with that.

"You're right," he whispered at last, staring down at his hands. The hands with blood on them. The hands of a mass murderer. The hands that had hurt his sister, both of them. "I'm…sorry." The words seemed so lame now, so weightless. How could mere words make up for what he'd done? How could mere words take back the pain? The suffering?

"Oh, _Brat_."

Once more loving arms were wrapped around him, and this time, they burned. They burned like holy water on the wicked. It physically hurt to still be so loved after all he'd done. After all he'd put her through, Katyusha was still trying to comfort him, still considerate of his feelings. Her compassion made him ill with guilt.

"Stop!" he cried, flinging himself out of her arms, standing up and stumbling as far from her as he could get himself in that room. "Stop!" he gasped, unable to breathe. What he wanted, he didn't really know. He longed for her embrace, yet he couldn't stand it.

"Why are you doing this to me?!" he cried, pulling at his hair with his hands. "I-I nearly _killed _you! I committed _genocide_ on your people, yet you come here afraid to upset me! Just leave!" he pleaded. "It would have been kinder for you to go without a word than to leave me with this…this…shame…"

He couldn't finish. Couldn't articulate his feelings any better. A sob escaped his lips before he could even think to stop it. Slowly, he sank to the floor, weeping, unable to do anything else. It was as though he simply could no longer support himself, and his legs gave way. The vodka had probably helped with that.

Pulling tightly into himself, Russia wept until he felt loving arms once more around him. It burned, but oh how he had missed this, this softness. Oh how he wished he could go back and change the way things had happened…

"I'm sorry to make you suffer so," Katyusha whispered, squeezing him tight. "But please know that I truly, from the bottom of my heart, forgive you."

Her eyes were earnest, and he felt his chest constrict painfully. "I-I know."

"Please believe me…I don't want to leave _you_. But…"

"I know."

The two siblings sat a moment, both with tears running freely down their faces, eyes red. "I…I should probably go…" Ukraine said after what felt like an eternity, yet not nearly long enough. The inevitable could no longer be denied. "I…I don't know when I'll get to see you again."

At last, Katyusha was the one to break down into a helpless sob. She really didn't want to go. Even after all he'd done to her over the years, after all the torment, she still loved him, still didn't want to hurt him. It warmed his heart. For the first time in years, Ivan embraced his sister, seeking to give her all the comfort he could, truly not wanting anything in return— As he should have done so many years ago but hadn't. It would be the first and last time for many years to come.

"Go," he whispered once she'd settled a bit, kissing the top of her head. "Go and rebuild. Go and be free."

Katyusha peered up into the face of her little brother, and smiled a bitter-sweet smile. It was the best he had seen from her in years, and he drank in all, even the tiniest bits, of happiness from her that he could. He didn't want to remember her suffering. "Thank you," she leaned up and kissed both cheeks and then his forehead. "I love you, _Brat_."

The words nearly undid the large man, but he managed to hold himself together. He nodded. "I…I l-love you too."

With that, Ukraine stood, Russia following a moment later, and the two stood staring at each other for a long moment. Neither knew what exactly to do now. She was no longer under his control, and he couldn't stop her from walking out that door. After a moment, Ukraine turned and shuffled towards the door. She only hesitated a moment, looking back over her shoulder to her brother, before she smiled and walked out. He knew it would be years before he saw her again.

And so, Ukraine and Belarus left the Soviet Union. It had honestly been inevitable, and he'd been a fool to think that they would stay after the reforms. But as he sat down at his desk again, thinking back to what had just occurred, he couldn't help but smile sadly to himself. He may not have his sisters within his union anymore, not under his power, not as countries, but he did have their love as siblings, as people. And in the end, Ivan was beginning to think that that was really all that matter.

As he stared down at his empty glass, Ivan snorted at his sentimentality and filled it up again. It was probably just the vodka that helped with these thoughts…

* * *

**Author's Note: **I'm learning about WWII from the eastern perspective, and am amazed at how…not insignificant, but certainly not as prominent the western Allies' part was in the war in Europe. The true heart of WWII was actually between Germany and the Soviet Union, and the war in Western Europe actually is looking less momentous. I've actually come to an understanding that westerners, Americans in particular, are completely diluted into thinking that the US and UK were among the most important of the war in Europe…but that's really not the case. Really the west was lucky to survive between Nazi Germany and USSR after the stuff they pulled after WWI.

I'm not trying to downplay the importance of the west, and please don't think I don't believe that what the westerners did was unimportant, it's just that, looking at the east…that's where the big determining acts happened, and that's also where some of the most monstrous things occurred.

**History: **I know when speaking of camps in WWII everything thinks of Nazi Germany, but actually, the largest camp was a Soviet GULag in Dalstroy. The Nazis actually learned from the Soviets and based their camps on the GULags, only Nazis made theirs more "efficient". And also, most people think about the Nazis as committing the genocide in WWII, but they weren't the only ones. The Russians technically committed genocide against the Ukrainians in 1933-4 when the Ukrainian farmers (_Kulaks_) rebelled and didn't want to give their farms over the communist party. The Russians launched plans to basically kill/imprison and starve out the Ukrainians.

It's no contest as to who had the most causalities in WWII—the Soviet Union obviously did. BUT of any country that participated in the war, it was the UKRAINE the lost the most people total. Not even Russia lost more. And in terms of the most civilian casualties, BELARUS lost the most. It was the Ukraine and Belarus that can arguably be the countries that suffered the most.

**Nuremburg is obviously referring to the Nuremburg trials for the top Nazi officers, where they were charged with war crimes and well as crimes against humanity. It was a bit hypocritical, I think, since both Axis and Ally members committed some pretty atrocious things, and yes, I mean ALL the Allies.

'**Nother Note: **Again, I'm not trying to make anyone look better or worse here, but I just wanted to show how FAR more complicated WWII actually was, especially to western readers. In the end, it wasn't just the Nazis that were bad. Pretty much EVERYONE was terrible at this time, Germans, Russians, Americans, Japanese, British…everyone technically committed acts against humanity, but once again, the victors determine how history is perceived. Just thought I'd share a little of what I learned.

Reviews are welcomed. Thanks!


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